


Remembrance

by astraplain



Series: Kurtoberfest [26]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-27 03:44:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8385931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astraplain/pseuds/astraplain
Summary: Adam plants dandelions. Written for the prompt: underworld/afterlife





	

When he was seven and full of wonder, Adam Crawford sneaked into the cemetery near his house and planted dandelions on the graves. When he was found, there was a lot of yelling and his mother made him undo all of his planting.

When he was twelve and knew everything, Adam planted dandelions on graves just to see if he could get away with it. He didn’t and, although there was less yelling, the end result was the same.

When he was fifteen and miserable, Adam planted dandelions only on the oldest and most neglected graves. He wasn’t caught, or no one cared, because he watched them grow, flower, and turn to puffballs. He picked those and made wishes, sending the feathery white seeds into the wind. Watching them fly made him ache with jealousy.

When he was nineteen and alone in a new country, Adam couldn’t find a cemetery so he made one himself in clay pots, planting dandelions in front of the handmade tombstones. His roommates thought it was private joke and added their own tombstone pots, usually without the dandelions.

At twenty-two, Adam brought Kurt Hummel home and showed him his cemetery. Unlike Adam’s previous boyfriends, Kurt didn’t laugh. He brought sage and thyme, and planted them with care.

“When the time is right, we’ll make wishes,” Adam told him, holding Kurt’s hands. But when the time care, Adam made the wishes alone.

“Keep him safe,” Adam wished. “Let him be loved.”

Dandelion seeds carried the wishes aloft spiraling up into a darkening sky.

Adam knelt beside his cemetery and watered Kurt’s herbs with his tears. They died anyway.

Adam carried the pots, one by one, downstairs to the basement, tombstones askew from where he’d pulled out the dandelion roots.

“Who will remember them, down there in the dark?” Kurt asked. He was standing at the top of the stairs, his face masked by shadows.

“There’s nothing to remember,” Adam said, refusing to allow himself hope.

“Then they are truly dead.” Kurt bowed his head, not in prayer Adam knew, but in memory. He was better at death by necessity than Adam would ever be.

“You never brought them rosemary,” Adam commented as he led Kurt upstairs.

“They didn’t need it,” Kurt assured him as he took Adam into his arms. “They had you.”

 

::end::


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